Near Mint
by Omnia Vanitus
Summary: Part 1 of the Atonement Series. Agent Phil Coulson is still recovering from his lethal encounter with Loki, but when the god shows up again looking to atone will he be forgiving? WARNINGS: Slash, Spoilers from the Agents of Shield TV show.
1. Vicodin

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

It was in the early morning hours when Agent Phil Coulson woke with a strangled cry, flinging himself bolt upright. He was gasping for breath as his wide blue eyes scanned the darkened bedroom wildly, searching for the hidden danger and finding nothing.

Clenching his eyes shut, he flopped back down, ignoring the way his sweat soaked sheets felt against his skin.

It took several minutes, longer than he'd really care to admit, for him to calm his rapid heartbeat, forcing himself to take deep breaths while he ran his fingertips over the ugly scar on his chest soothingly and trying to block out the memory of how he attained his little souvenir from the crazed, psychopathic Asgardian, Loki.

He'd been having dreams lately, ever since the invasion, of Him and dying and electric shocks so powerful they ripped him from the afterlife only to force him back into his decaying body...though he supposed any of these would be enough to give anyone nightmares.

Coulson ran a hand over his tired face and through his thinning brown hair, wiping away the sweat that still lingered on his forehead. It was barely even dawn, too early for him to be getting up just yet, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not after that.

Disentangling the sheets from his legs, he levered himself out of bed with a soft groan, the tender skin along his scar pulling uncomfortably as he sat up again. He stood stiffly, his joints popping and creaking in protest and making him feel entirely too old.

He winced as he shuffled through his quiet apartment, swiping up the small brown bottle of pain meds from the top of his dresser as he passed. By the time he reached the kitchen and set his coffee pot to brew he had already popped a couple into his mouth, swallowing them down dry. He only had a few more doses left, but that was alright. He rarely even needed them anymore.

As the coffee brewed, Coulson quickly settled on a small package of Little Debbie donuts for his breakfast. Not the most healthy thing, he knew, but he just couldn't resist their sugary goodness.

Steaming mug in one hand and chocolate frosted donuts in the other, he wondered into the living room and settled down onto an overstuffed couch, his eyes landing on the vintage trading cards spread out carefully on the coffee table before him.

His Captain America cards were near mint. Or had been before Fury decided to smear his blood all over them. At least the Captain himself had signed them as a farewell token to the "deceased" agent.

Coulson idly wondered which would affect their value more: Captain America's signature or his type B- blood now staining them.

"Near mint," he sighed. "Damned one-eyed bastard." Coulson let out a snort of laughter at that. "Oh wait, that's Stark's line."

The agent let out another soft sigh as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Vicodin is one hell of a drug.

He'd be returning to work soon, in a matter of days really, and while he was both eager and relieved to be resuming his SHIELD duties, he couldn't help but be wary. It wasn't the physical aspects of the job that worried him, paperwork isn't exactly laborious, but psychologically speaking...he wasn't so sure.

Coulson frowned at the images floating in his head, from his most recent nightmare and from misplaced memories that just didn't make sense to him.

_Pain lancing through his chest as Loki's spear impaled him. Fury's angry growl. All consuming darkness followed by excruciating light forcing life back into his synapses. Paradise transforming into the grass shacks of Tahiti. Such a magical place. And agony so overwhelming he welcomed death, begged for it..._and on one occasion even attempted it.

He shook his head in exasperation, berating himself for even contemplating taking more time off. Reaching a hand up to rub along the scar, he eyed the trading cards again. No, he needed to go back to work. If only to preserve his own sanity.

Secrets didn't matter.

* * *

His keys jangled in the door lock, turning the tumblers and admitting him entrance into his apartment. But once through and the door shut firmly behind him, Coulson simply slumped against it rubbing a hand over his tired eyes and temples.

His first day back at SHIELD had been a long one with many hours spent being retrained, recertified and reclassified with a higher level of clearance. His marksmanship, he was pleased to find, hadn't deteriorated during his time off and though the doctors had given him a clean bill of health, he had spent much of his training getting tossed around like a ragdoll while he wheezed and panted on the padded floor. His strength and stamina were effectively in the crapper.

He was also, to his surprise, given a new assignment and team.

He had known, realistically, that he wouldn't have any further part in the Avengers Initiative, considering the group believed him to be dead and all, but he couldn't stop a small, small part of him from hoping.

And another from feeling that this new team of his was some sort of consolation prize.

Maybe he really shouldn't have returned to work so soon.

Feeling utterly exhausted, Coulson pushed off from the door, making his way into the kitchen for a bottle of water before wondering out into the living room. But before he settle down onto one of the couches, the sound of rustling off to his side drew his attention. And with reflexes that would make any agent proud, his gun was drawn and aimed at a spot between familiar green eyes.


	2. Conviction

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

"Impressive," Loki said as he stepped forward from out of the darkness, seemingly unfazed by the weapon pointed at him. He spread his arms wide in a show that he was unarmed, claiming a seat on the couch opposite the agent. "By all means," he began, "fire if it will put yo‒" His head snapped back violently as a loud gunshot rang out.

Several seconds pass in silence before the god finally righted himself, his head coming up to reveal no visible sign of injury, though his poisonous green eyes were narrowed dangerously at the agent.

"I have to admit," Coulson said, his gun still raised, "I was expecting a clone."

Loki tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his lips slowly twisting into a devious smirk. "In that case, Agent Coulson, I suggest you turn around."

The man did, turning just in time to see a pale, long fingered hand reaching out for him. Their struggle was brief and he was quickly overpowered, he wasn't quite a hundred percent yet and even if he was he'd still be no match for the god. Their first encounter was proof enough of that.

The clone steered him forcefully towards the couch he'd been headed for just moments before where he was shoved down unceremoniously onto the cushions. Coulson sat frozen to the spot, not from fear, no, his training wouldn't allow for that, but from whatever spell Loki's clone had cast on him. And all from a single touch to his shoulder.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and though he could feel a trickle of sweat slide down the back of his neck, his features were schooled into his usual cordial mask. The gun was still in his hand though, lying their uselessly with his finger lingering on the trigger, but the god made no move to disarm him.

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up in Asgard," the agent asked casually.

Loki's smile was slow and dangerous as it spread across his face. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I was for a time."

"Oh, do tell."

"Eight seconds."

The god made a face, a mixture of disappointment and mock sympathy. "Is that all?"

Coulson shrugged or would have if he could move. "It's possible I was dead for longer."

Loki tilted his head again with that same measured look. "A few days by my estimation."

Coulson didn't reply, merely watched in silence as the god sat forward to gather up the bloodstained cards that had still been spread out on the coffee table and thumbed through them with a disgusted sneer.

"Why are you here," the agent asked firmly.

"We have some business, I believe."

"Do we?"

There was a long pause before Loki finally answered. "I'm here to make amends."

"Amends," Coulson asked, disbelievingly. "For what, trying to take over Earth? For the mental rape of Agent Barton and Eric Selvig? For the eighty plus agents you killed or the thousands more of innocent civilians? Or perhaps for my own murder?"

"The last one," Loki clarified.

Coulson couldn't stop the derisive snort that escaped him. "Did my death _move_ you that much?"

Loki gave a half-hearted shrugged in response. "You died bravely," he admitted.

"You cut my heart in half." He was trying, he really was, to stay collected, but the bitterness that saturated his words was all too evident and the god pulled his eyes away from the cards to focus on the agent sitting across from him. "Do you even know how much I had to give up because of that, how much I lost? Do you even care?"

"Not really, no." He bent the cards in his hand carelessly, ignoring the agent's wince, and released them into the air, letting them spew out in an arch and flutter to the carpet.

"Then why are you here?"

Loki gave a long suffering sigh. "I was sentenced to spend the rest of my life in the dungeons of Asgard for my crimes against Midgard," he began. "However, it seems that our _beloved_ Thor has been learning more and more about your law practices here on this planet, thanks to that woman of his, no doubt. Between him and my mother, Frigga, they have somehow managed to convince the Allfather to commute my sentence. What's that word you mortals use? Ah yes, parole."

"Parole?"

"Yes, I am on parole. And as long as I can play nice with you mortals, I am but a free man."

"Just like that?"

"There are some provisions concerning this newfound leniency of Odin's such as the typical no mischief, murder or mayhem clause that always seems to accompany any of these rulings the Allfather has in my regards, but the most important of which is to make amends with those I've wronged in this realm. A tedious task, but believe you me, Agent Coulson, considering that the alternative is to spend the rest of my life, and we Æsir are so very long lived, locked up in a cell and hidden away like some dirty little secret...well, I would have died of boredom long before I ever died of old age and well after the denizens of this planet have long since forgotten my crimes against them."

"I can tell showing signs of remorse or guilt is not a factor in your parole."

"Indeed. Though no doubt the Allfather believes it will come in time. I do have a lot to atone for after all and it will be a long time before I've finished."

"You'll excuse me if I don't weep over your predicament."

"Of course," the god agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I imagined there would be a few adverse reactions to my release."

"Damn right," Coulson said sternly. "Especially considering you're now in my home and you've already attacked me."

"To be fair, agent, you shot me first."

"To be _fair_, you murdered me. How did you even know I was alive anyway?"

"Thor may have watched you die, but it was Heimdall who watched you be revived...and with such cruelty I might add. And my _brother_," he spat, the word dripping with venom, "is nothing but a sentimental fool."

"I'm surprised Thor didn't force you to make up with him as well."

"Oh, but he did," Loki admitted. "We relived our glory of old through song and drink and bonded anew over a long and rather trying hunt." Coulson stared blankly at him making Loki sigh in exasperation. "After everything I've done, that damned oaf still intends to live in the past."

"And now that you're here, how do you plan on appeasing me?"

Loki gave him a mischievous grin. "Oh, I'm certain we can come up with something, agent." He sat forward then, resting an arm on a bent knee as he stared critically at the man across from him. "Is there something with which I can tempt you?"

"You could apologize."

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"No, I wouldn't," Coulson admitted with a shake of his head. "Unfortunately, I'll have to decline anything else. Some, myself included, would view this as an attempt at bribery."

"I see," the god said, slowly climbing to his feet and stalking forward, his boots stepping uncaringly over the cards littering the floor. "I can assure you, Agent Coulson, that you don't have a choice in the matter."

"So you're going to force me into letting you atone?"

"The alternative is unacceptable." Loki stood in front of him now as he stared down at him, his green eyes glinting dangerously. "So tell me, Agent Coulson, do I _still_ lack conviction?"

The agent didn't answer, but the grip on his gun tightened. Something that did not go unnoticed by the dark god looming above him.


	3. Pillow Talk

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Loki bent down, bracing a hand on the back of the couch next to the paralyzed agent while he reached down with his other to lift Coulson's hand still tightly wrapped around the gun. He made no move to unarm him, but instead leveled the gun pointblank at his own pale face.

And oh how Coulson wished he could pull the trigger, his fingers twitching with the effort to do so.

The god's pointed tongue slipped out to lick at the cold barrel and lingering gunpowder residue, his green eyes sliding shut at the taste of charcoal and sulfur. His tongue continued on, lathing a trail along the hard metal until his tongue found mortal flesh. He opened his eyes then, locking them with blue as he lapped at the agent's hand, his tongue lingering at the fluttering pulse point at his wrist. He sucked at the flesh firmly, noting how the pulse spiked before biting down hard enough to make Coulson cry out and drop the gun to the floor.

Loki let his hand fall back to the couch as he settled himself down between Coulson's knees, his hands resting on the man's thighs briefly before he shifted to the side, reaching for something on the floor and coming back up with the discarded water bottle the agent had dropped just moments before during his fight with the clone.

He uncapped the bottle and leaned forward, shoving it between the man's lips and letting him drink the icy, cold beverage.

"We wouldn't want you getting dehydrated now would we," the god said in passing as he trailed his free hand down Coulson's chest. "This _is_ going to be a long night after all...perhaps even several."

Coulson sputtered at that, choking on the water even as the unwanted hand continued to roam his body. "And this is how you choose to expiate," he asked in disbelief as he felt the god tighten the thin, black tie around his neck a few degrees too tight before undoing the knot completely and discarding it onto the couch beside them. "You can't make up for murder by committing rape."

"You can't rape the willing," Loki countered as he yanked Coulson's white dress shirt open sending the small buttons flying. "I did offer you a chance to choose how I would appease you, did I not? You declined, so now _I_ am choosing for you." His head dipped down to the crook of his neck, trailing the top of his tongue up to his ear and whispered, "though I'm certain I can make this more agreeable for you." There was a ripple of gold-green light as the god of mischief cast his magic.

And when the light faded Coulson had to admit he wasn't expecting to come face to face with the spitting image of Captain America, complete with vintage suit and circular shield strapped to his back. And kneeling between his legs.

It was almost comical how his mind churned to justify the sudden twitching in his groin.

"What do you think," the god asked in a confidant voice that clearly belonged to one Steve Rogers. "I can just feel the patriotism and righteousness flowing through my veins." He leant forward to nibble the agent's ear again and whispered in a husky voice, "care to join me in a rousing course of our national anthem, soldier?"

Coulson's brain had short circuited and he was pretty sure he had just let out a rather embarrassing whine and anyone who knew him even a little bit could understand why. But he forced himself to push pass the gushing fanboy feelings and school his features once more.

"I'll have to decline," he said as firmly as possible, but it still came out sounding strained even to his own ears.

And it was just so wrong how lecherous Loki could make the Captain's face look: half lidded blue eyes made dark with desire, full lips parted just enough for a pink tongue to dart out and slide along his bottom lip, a spandex suit that was practically painted on and left nothing to the imagination...

Coulson was brought out of his musings by a hot, sinful mouth now licking and sucking at the scar on his chest.

The desensitized nerve endings of the newly healed flesh ignited under the god's tongue sending unexpected waves of pleasure coursing through his body making his breath hitch sharply in his throat and his cock ache.

Teeth scraped over his skin and the agent was only then aware of how painfully hard he was. He needed to stop this or at the very least make Loki change back. He was fairly certain that if the god did then he would be able to focus again. That was his reasoning anyway.

An incessant voice in the back of his head that sounded annoyingly like Tony Stark's was commenting on how "gay for Captain America" Coulson was. No doubt if the man were here now he'd be taking pictures and videos as proof of that.

The familiar coil in his belly was starting to tighten dangerously as the god between his knees continued to mouth his scar, building his arousal up to fever pitch and setting Coulson on the edge of a panic attack. And Loki hadn't even touched his cock yet. If he didn't stop this soon, he'd be coming in his pants like some adolescent school boy, something he couldn't allow for a number of reasons, pride and embarrassment being only a couple.

He clenched his eyes shut as a powerful wave of pleasure rippled through him making him grit out a weak "stop" through his clenched teeth. Coulson's breath was ragged and his arms and legs were trembling, but the god complied and pulled his greedy mouth away from him.

Loki's mouth was suspended a few inches above his skin, just far enough for his unusually cold breath to fan out against his saliva coated scar, sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the god's gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, not when they'd open to find Steve's desire filled baby blues staring back at him.

"Stop what exactly," Loki asked playfully, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Coulson's voice was rough. "Change back."

Loki's answering snicker was expected, but he was still relieved when a soft flash of green-gold light flickered against his eyelids as the god shape shifted again.

"And here I thought spies were into role-play," the mischief maker said, sounding entirely too smug for the agent's liking.

"I'm not a spy," Coulson corrected, "just an agent."

"There's a difference?"

"As an agent," he began, trying to ignore the oddly soothing petting caresses the god was giving his sides, "my duties include both administrative and fieldwork."

"Such a well-rounded individual you are," the god cooed condescendingly.

"Yes, actually. Being knowledgeable in a variety of topics can be beneficial and SHIELD agents are encouraged to take up hobbies."

"Like Captain America?"

"I've read his military files," Coulson said offhandedly.

"More than that I imagine," Loki said with a knowing smirk, noticing how the agent's eyes flickered all too briefly to the discarded cards on the floor behind him. "You should never meet your heroes, or so I've heard. Were you disappointed?"

"No, I wasn't." Coulson answered honestly.

"Ah, you're still smitten then. And yet you'd pass up a chance to see the good captain in all of his...glory."

The pregnant pause was a bit much and the agent didn't need to be a genius to figure out what the god meant, and while his breathing may have calmed during their brief chat, he was still painfully hard and he could have done without the mental image of Steve Rogers wearing nothing but his shield and a smile.

"Why settle for an imitation when I can have the real thing?"

Loki's dark eyes glinted dangerously. "Considering the likelihood of you even seeing him again, what with you being 'dead' and all... Though I doubt you'd be as enamored with him if he was still that pathetically frail little weakling he was born as."

"Jealous?" That infuriating smirk stretched across Loki's face again and Coulson longed to slap it off him.

"I'm not the one who's infatuated with some useless relic...or do you still have hope that you'll be reunited with your 'hero'?"

The agent's hand shot up with enough force to make Loki's head lurch to the side with a resounding smack and they both froze at the sudden contact.

He had hit him. Coulson had just _struck_ the god of lies. His blue eyes were wide as they flickered disbelievingly between the god's face and his own hand still raised in the air, not fully comprehending what had actually happened.

"H-how long have I been able to move?"

Loki answered with a low chuckle as he righted himself. "Since the moment you dropped the gun."

There was a beat of silence as the two stared at each other and then, in a blink of an eye, they were struggling again.

Coulson was still at a disadvantage, not quite at a hundred percent yet, and Loki, being a god, was naturally stronger than him. It wasn't long, just a few pathetic seconds before the god had him subdued again and made quick use of the discarded tie laying next to them.

Sprawled out on the couch now, with his hands tied uselessly behind his back, Coulson stared up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the god's heated green-eyed gaze as he tried to steady his panicked breath.

Their positions had shifted, but Loki was still between his splayed legs and his pale hands were resting deceivingly gently on his chest, messaging soothing circles into his skin. And despite his vulnerable position Coulson was surprisingly calm, even when he felt a ripple of magic against his skin that left both him and the god poised above him bare.

Long fingered hands trailed down his chest and stomach, carefully avoiding the prominent scar and his demanding cock, until they were on his thighs, alternating between messaging patterns into his sensitive skin or leaving faint scratch marks in the wake of fingernails.

Hiking his leg up into the air, the god's fingertips traced the cleft of his ass and when a slickened finger suddenly breached him the agent sucked in a surprised gasp.

"What are you doing," Coulson breathed, forcing himself to focus on more than just the slender digit working its way in and out of him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Let me rephrase," he grunted. "In what way is this suppose to make up for you killing me?"

Loki paused, his finger buried knuckle deep. "Is there something you'd like to suggest, Agent Coulson?"

He was calm. Calmer than he had any right to be when his erection was standing so proudly between them. "You're here to appease me," he replied. "So, show me. Prove to me how much you want to atone."

Loki's thin lips slid into a slow, devious smirk, his head dipping in a slight nod as he straightened and withdrew. Steadying himself with a hand on the back of the couch, his other disappeared behind his back.

Coulson watched as the emotions played out across the god's face as he fingered himself, feeling his own cock twitch in time with Loki's stuttered breaths and soft groans and by the time Loki's hips started humping air, he was leaking.

The agent would admit, albeit grudgingly, that the god was beautiful and he didn't even notice when the god's free hand moved from the back of the couch to his aching cock until the hand started pumping him, making him buck up into his firm grasp helplessly.

Loki moved then, bending at the waist to an impossible angle until his mouth was poised over his straining flesh and Coulson could feel the puffs of cold air against his heated flesh. But as cold as the god's breath was, his mouth was a furnace and the agent didn't even try to stop the whines and moans that he managed to suck from him as his already gaunt cheeks hollow with their effort.

The god pulled away with an audible pop leaving his member slick with saliva, ready and waiting.

The god moved to straddle him, positioning himself over his waiting cock which he quickly guides to his loosened hole and impaled himself without a moment's hesitation.

Coulson could barely breathe as he watched Loki sink down on his cock, his member disappearing into the god's body inch by inch. Loki's jaw was slack and his head fell back exposing his vulnerable throat and once he's fully seated, they can do nothing more than gasp at the feel of each other.

Coulson was tempted to move, to just thrust up into that willing body above him, but he doesn't and instead leaves it up to Loki to set the pace. And the god does.

Loki rolled his hips as he worked himself along the cock buried within him. It had been centuries since he had allowed a mortal this kind of privilege, to penetrate him, but he won't deny how much he had missed this, the way his body opens up to the intrusion with a greedy lust. And while part of him burned at allowing this mortal to touch him, he doesn't argue or even hesitate to give himself over and thrust down on to that hard length again.

Coulson's blue eyes were dark with desire, nearly full blown with pleasure and his arousal flared as the god continued to move above him and doesn't even remember when he began to buck up to meet the god's thrusts. His mind was too hazy and their panting too harsh as the air filled with desperate moans.

Neither last much longer, how could they, but it's Loki who snaps first, coming with a deep groan as his body clenched down almost viciously as he paints Coulson's chest white. And Coulson follows seconds after, filling the god with hot seed as his own body goes rigid. He doesn't know how he managed it, but he forces his eyes to stay open, taking in every detail of Loki's rapture and only allowing them to close when the god slumped down on top of him.

His body was tingling having just had one of the best orgasms in his life as well as the unintentional contact the god made with his scar. He still doesn't understand it, why his body responds so easily to such a simple touch and he has never considered that piece of scarred flesh to be an erogenous zone. Not when his own fingers, and those of numerous SHIELD doctors, have played across that patch of skin and never once elicited any kind of tingle. Not until Loki.

And he's half convinced it's some form of Stockholm syndrome.

Loki shifted suddenly, bringing up a lazy hand to rest his head on as he looked down at the prone agent trapped underneath him. "What shall we do now," he asked in a sultry voice.

"Is this were the pillow talk starts," Coulson sighed.

"Perhaps. I am a _very_ good listener," he teased.

Coulson made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You are unbelievable."

"Yes, I am quite remarkable aren't I," Loki said, his smug grin stretching across his face.

The agent shook his head in irritation. "I told you stop."

"No," the god answered, his piercing green eyes narrowing dangerously, "you told me to change back. And I wonder why... Too _eager_ to see your beloved captain in all of his patriotic glory?" His eyes wondered over the agent's face as he tilted his head. "Or perhaps you were under the impression that my illusion of Steve Rogers was the sole reason of your enjoyment." Loki's free hand slid across Coulson's stomach and chest so he could tap a finger against the scar.

But Coulson didn't feel the tendrils of pleasure that lashed through him like before. "Wasn't it?"

"So, naive," he chuckled lowly.

Loki dipped his head down to draw his thin lips across the raised edge of the prominent scar before latching on to it and sucking firmly. Coulson was hard instantly, bucking up against the god's still soft cock as he gasped out.

Loki gave a surprised breathy laugh. "I suppose I should have waited till I was ready."

"How are you doing that," Coulson gritted out as he ground his head back against the cushions

"Residual magic," Loki stated simply, his breath whispering over Coulson's skin as he spoke, and at the agent's blank expression he continued. "It seems during our last encounter those few, short months ago, I left behind some trace amounts of my magic. Not much, mind you, but enough for me to locate you...and enough for me to do this." The god licked along the scar again before pulling back to blow a stream of cold air against the agent's skin.

Coulson shivered violently, his body trembling from the sudden cold even as his dick pounds and when he jerked his hips up again he could feel how hard Loki was and he nearly whined as the god moved to straddle him once more.

"Did you think I would be so easily satisfied," the god cooed down to him.

"And here I thought we weren't doing this for your own satisfaction," he said, his lips tugging into a soft, strained smile.

A sly grin blossomed on the god's face as his green eyes half lid. "Oh? Well then that's just one more thing I'll have to atone for isn't it."

Coulson hissed sharply as Loki impales himself again. This really was going to be a long night.


End file.
